Do not tremble so! Tell me, where did you learn to dance as you
do?"
Priscilla had dropped upon the rough rustic seat; she did not seem to
notice the hand that rested upon her clasped ones under the thin scarf.
She no longer cried, but the tears shone on her long lashes.
"I--I never learned. It--it is I, myself. I thought I had grown into
something else, but--I shall always be the same--when I let myself go."
"Let yourself go? Good heavens! Why not let yourself go--forever?"
Travers's voice shook. "You have brought joy and youth to us all--to me,
who never had youth. What--who are you?" he laughed boyishly. She sat
rigidly erect and turned her sad eyes upon him.
"I'm Priscilla Glynn--a nurse! And you? Oh! you are Doctor Travers! Can
you not see my beautiful, happy, happy life is ended--must end? Margaret,
you, everything this joyous summer has made me--forget. Soon I am going
back--where there is no dancing!"
"And--cease to be yourself?"
"Yes. But I shall always remember. Not many have had the wonderful
glimpse I have had--not many."
"I--I will not let you go back! You belong in the light; in love and the
giving of love.
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